


Stay In Touch

by rsadelle



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Skype
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 11:40:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3118817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rsadelle/pseuds/rsadelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They don't have a regular schedule, exactly, but there are times of day that they tend to Skype.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay In Touch

**Author's Note:**

> For an anonymous prompt for Taylor Hall/Ryan Whitney Skype dates.

"How's it going in St. Louis?" Taylor's mouth twists around the city name.

Ryan shrugs. "It is what it is. Been hanging out with Biz." Ryan smirks. "He keeps saying he's going to take me out and get me laid."

Taylor predictably bristles at that. "Fuck him."

Ryan raises his eyebrows. "I don't think that was what he meant." He ignores Taylor's attempt to keep talking. "Are you going to let me see your dick, or what?"

"Not if you're going to talk about going to pick up with Biz."

"Big talk from a guy who can only get laid by relying on his name."

Taylor flips him off, and then adjusts the laptop so Ryan can see it when he takes his dick out.

"Yeah," Ryan says, "that's it."

"This isn't a free show," Taylor says, stilling his hand after a few strokes.

Ryan laughs and gets his dick out so they can jerk off together before the exhaustion of training camp sends him crashing into bed.

*

"This time difference is going to be a bitch," Ryan says.

"We'll figure it out," Taylor says with a shrug. Then he frowns. "You look tired."

Ryan has to cover a yawn before he can say, "Jet lag. It'll get better."

Taylor hmms. "You meet your team yet?"

Ryan shakes his head. "Just the coach and management. I'm supposed to meet everyone else tomorrow."

"I guess I should let you get some sleep," Taylor says.

"You should get your dick out," Ryan says, but he ruins it by yawning in the middle.

Taylor laughs softly. "Yeah, right. Get some sleep, babe. I'll get my dick out for you next time."

*

They don't have a regular schedule, exactly, but there are times of day that they tend to Skype. It's nowhere near any of those when Ryan finds out about Eakins getting fired. _Get on Skype,_ Ryan texts Taylor. _Whenever you can. I'll be here._

Taylor Skypes him later, looking haggard and older than his years. "Hey."

"Hey," Ryan says. "How you holding up?"

Taylor sighs, and looks miserable. "Maybe it is me," he says. "Maybe I'm the problem."

"Fuck that shit," Ryan says. And fuck this being a full day of travel away from Taylor shit too. "You're the best thing that team has."

"You don't know that," Taylor says, voice cracking.

"I do," Ryan says. "I was there for a while, remember. It's not your fault."

He pretends not to see the tears in Taylor's eyes, or the shaking of his shoulders when he covers his face with his hands.

"Baby," he says, gentle, after Taylor has looked away to wipe his eyes and looked back, "I love you." It's true, and they both know it, but he doesn't say it very often.

Taylor musters up half a smile for him, and then it drops away. "There's talk about trading me."

Ryan bites back both his opinion that it would be the Oilers' stupidest move to date and his opinion that it would be good for Taylor's career. "In the organization, or coming from outside?"

Taylor scrapes a hand over his face. "Outside, for now. I called my agent, though."

Ryan hmms for a second. "Well, if they trade you to Boston, you know you have a place to stay."

It surprises Taylor into a laugh that looks genuine.

Ryan grins at him. "My place is just sitting empty while I'm here. And my mom would probably cook for you."

Taylor laughs again. "Thanks." Ryan knows he means it for more than just the offer of the apartment.

*

"At least it's warm here," Taylor says with a sigh the first time he Skypes Ryan from Tampa Bay. There's the blandness of a hotel room behind him but sunlight catching on his hair.

"Never be cold again," Ryan agrees. "I could go for some of that now."

"Yeah, sucks to be you."

Ryan flips him off. "You can work on your tan."

Taylor laughs, but his eyes are still shadowed.

"Hey, you okay?" They didn't get to talk yesterday, just a text from Taylor that he was throwing shit in a bag and getting on a plane.

Taylor shrugs. "I guess I get to play with Stamkos now."

Ryan's silent for a moment, waiting to see if he's going to say anything else. "Doesn't quite make up for it, does it?"

"No," Taylor says. "I miss Ebby."

It takes all of Ryan's effort not to laugh at the ongoing proof of their codependency. "It's only been one day. Should I be jealous?"

"Nah," Taylor says, "but I'm used to missing you."

*

"Hey, babe," Taylor says from yet another hotel room on the road, sounding distracted. Then his attention snaps to the screen and he frowns. "Where are you? I thought you were going to be home already."

"I am," Ryan says. He turns the laptop so the camera catches on the masking taped game puck on the table, the open closet full of Taylor's clothes, the view out the window. "Pulled a few strings, got myself a key."

"Oh, fuck you," Taylor says. He's grinning through the screen.

Ryan finds himself grinning back. "We could if you were here. We can when you get back."

Taylor leers at him. "My door's locked."

Ryan moves the laptop away from himself so the camera gets a better view of him unbuttoning his jeans. "So get your dick out for me."


End file.
